Time And I

Twelve

If Buddy respected our friendship, he would not expect me to like him back just because he did. If Buddy respected me, he would not expect me to be his girlfriend. He would continue to be my friend, and he would move on to where we could put this whole thing behind us.

But he needed to confess to me first.

Did I want him to confess? Did I want him to tell me he was in love with me? I already knew what my reply would be:

'I love you. Will you be my girlfriend?'

'No.'

I knew Buddy enough to know that he would respect my feelings. He would understand, and he wouldn't try to hold it against me or above my head. He wouldn't blackmail me into loving him. He wouldn't do anything rude, sexist, misogynistic. He would be respectful of my answer, and we would continue to be friends.

But there was still the fear that he would somehow snap. Like everything I knew about him would just be thrown out as though it was never really him, and he would become one of the Trademark 'Nice Guys' who thought they were top shit and that they were worthy of a woman's affection but was as useful as an open window on a submarine.

Buddy wasn't like that. I knew he wasn't. And he wasn't the type who would throw away years' worth of friendship over a rejection. He would not say that he couldn't handle being my friend if we couldn't be something more. I knew that deep inside, but I was still scared I was going to lose him by rejecting him. I loved Buddy; he was the most important person in my life. I didn't want to lose him.

"You don't look so great," he commented as he walked up to my locker. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Of course," I said, doing my best to smile realistically.

"You've been off all weekend."

"You haven't seen me since Saturday night."

"Yet your texts yesterday were weirdly... not you. Are you sure you're okay? Did something happen at the concert I didn't realize?"

"No," I said, shaking my head softly. "It's nothing. I just felt a little weird after the concert."

"Weird?" He was genuinely worried. Worried that the girls got to me. That they ruined the night for me and that he wasn't able to help lift my spirts and help enjoy the night. If only he knew.

"Stomachache," I stated. "I think I may have eaten something that made me feel gross."

He placed his hand against my forehead. I could feel my face heat, and it wasn't before he touched me. He tsked as he pulled away. "You don't feel warm."

"I said I had a stomachache, not the flu," I quipped as I slammed my locker shut.

Darcy, who was walking up to us, leaned back and whistled low. I could tell she was about to turn away, but I quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her over to us. "You're fine," I assured. "Nothing's wrong."

"O... kay," she dragged out. "How was the Golden Crows concert?"

"I had fun... but..."–Buddy faced me, his eyes wondering if his hunch was right. And a part of it was. Only, it was because of what the girls led him to do and not what they actually did–"I don't think Mel had that good of a time."

"It's not her genre, but I'm sure she still had fun with you." She looked at me. "Right?"

"I need to pee," I blurted, and spun around to walk to the nearest bathroom. Not my most graceful exit, but I couldn't stand staring at Buddy. I was supposed to pull a Jeanie and act like he didn't actually have any feelings for me, but I couldn't help it. Buddy liked me. I was sure of it.

His eyes were so kind, full of worry. He was just a good person, wondering if I was feeling okay. Maybe the concert wasn't supposed to be a date, but it felt like one. An uncomfortable one. How was I supposed to act knowing he liked me? I didn't think I could ignore it, not when we already had an intimate friendship.

Oh, God.

I led him on.

It was my fault.

"Mel, why are you having an existential crisis now of all time?" Darcy asked as she stormed into the bathroom.

I didn't care if anyone heard me, especially if it was Buddy's followers. They were the ones who needed to hear it the most.

"Buddy likes me. Doesn't he?"

Darcy snickered. "You're just realizing that now?"

I whined as I leaned my head against the wall. "Dammit."

"It's not like he's ever let it impede your guys' friendship. He knows how you feel, and he doesn't let it get to him. He's just happy to be your friend. You know that."

"But have I been leading him on?" I asked. "I mean, we cuddle all the time. We have no issues with hugging, kissing on the cheek goodbye, or holding hands." I looked down at mine. "Except Friday."

"And what happened Friday?"

"Girls making fun of my appearance- you know, the usual," I nonchalantly replied, and she nodded. "But then Buddy just grabs my hand, and he doesn't let go of it all concert. He said it was because it was crowded and he was afraid to lose me, but there was something that just felt off about it. Like this was supposed to be a date. I mean, he even called me beautiful. Beautiful! There was no joke to counter my own. And when he told me he loved me at the end of the night... his voice was so vulnerable. It was like all friendliness was gone, and he was finally confessing."

"And did you say it back?"

"I just said goodnight and walked into my house."

Darcy pouted her lips as she walked up behind me. She wrapped her arms around my waist, perched her chin on my shoulder, and smiled at me. "I love you, Mel."

I chuckled. "I love you, too."

"No," she murmured, her eyes growing intense. "I mean, I love you."

I paled and quickly exited her arms. "Oh, God, did I lead you on, too?"

"So I'm assuming he said it more like the second one?" she causally asked.

I gawked. "Dick."

"Nah, not interested," she smirked. "Look, you didn't lead him on. Leading him on means you knew what his feelings were and yet you continued to do things to keep him wrapped around your finger. All you did was be his friend the way you two always have been friends."

"So now we can't even be friends?" I exasperated. "If I know now and continue to act like we do, then that means I'm leading him on, right? We have to have a completely different friendship now."

"No, that seems unfair. You two have always acted like that. It's a platonic friendship where you two just mock one another and do things sarcastically. But you're also cuddly types, so it makes sense that you two would cuddle and hug and whatever else you two do. That part doesn't have to change as long as you both know nothing will ever happen between you two.

"But it's also important that you acknowledge his feelings. He likes you, Mel. Everyone in school knows it. His fans may think you're leading him on, but he knows you're not, and you know you're not. Just tell him the truth when he finally confesses to you."

"So should I bring it up or not?"

Darcy shrugged. "You can. Be upfront and tell him how you feel. Or you can continue to act like the friends you are. He already knows where he stands with you. It's up to you on whether or not you think you should mention it."

"What would you do?"

"I'd tell him. I'd rather he knew the one-hundred percent truth than give him any hope that there was a sliver of a chance to be with me." She opened the bathroom door and said, "Come on. Let's get to homeroom."